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 and holding to the car as though it might suddenly jump up and fly away.

"I am afraid it is, Mr. Marsden," I said, glad to make the matter quite plain. "And much obliged for your kindness," and with that I speeded up, and left him disconsolately in the road. I peeped back through my little window, and felt quite sorry for him.

It was hard to be a pariah, and he was really a charming fellow and wonderfully handsome and nice. If he hadn't been the puzzle king, hadn't maddened a continent, I should have indulged in a little sentiment about him, and wiped away a tear. But a sense of the ridiculous forbade, and I had to smile at myself. Perhaps it helped as a protection. Isn't it strange when a person's eyes can haunt you, and you can hear the tones of his voice? I suppose it was just because he was so out of the ordinary, and unlike anybody I had ever met before; and he was fair, and I was dark—and, oh— Really how can anybody explain those things, anyway?